President Aaron Kimball slowly rose from his chair, his jaw tense as the weight of what he had just learned settled on his shoulders. The room was silent—tension thick enough to cut with a combat knife. The flickering overhead lights did little to soften the sharp atmosphere of the situation room.
He met General Oliver's gaze, his voice low but clear.
"Yes. It's true. The footage from the Mojave confirms it. We've got visual confirmation of a bipedal war machine—designation: Barbatos. And a second unit called Kyrios. Both deployed in combat during a test run... if you can believe it."
General Oliver clenched his fists behind his back, trying not to react, but his eyes twitched. The other staff around the table exchanged worried glances.
"Do we have anything on its power source? Materials? AI design?"
Kimball exhaled through his nose and gestured toward one of the analysts, who brought up a series of stills and sensor readouts on a projector screen.
"That's the problem. We don't know how it was built. The outer shell isn't made from any NCR military alloy we've ever seen. Radiation-resistant. Ballistic resistant. Plasma resistant. And from the brief glimpses we got, it uses some kind of mobile generator tech—possibly pre-War or even alien in design. Something about a Naquadah generator. You heard of that before, Oliver?"
Oliver shook his head grimly.
"No, sir. But it sounds like something out of a sci-fi comic mumbo jumbo, not a battlefield. What about the pilot?"
Kimball's mouth twitched as his staff member continued.
"The two of them were piloted by a seven-year-old kids. Reports suggest they're the children to the leader running Goodsprings. Their leader himself, our new Secretary of Agriculture, Six."
That name made every officer in the room stiffen.
"He's the one who's been... changing the Mojave."
Oliver muttered, voice sharp with recognition.
"He turned that backwater into a fortress city overnight. Got power, water, and now he's got flying fortresses and goddamn giant fighting robots?"
A staff member nodded slowly.
"Worse. From reports, He's now trying to take over the Capitol Wasteland."
A long, stunned silence fell over the room.
"...That's a joke, right?"
Kimball didn't smile.
"I wish it were, but making him our new Secretary of Agriculture was the best choice, and bringing him into our fold."
He straightened his coat and looked at each face in the room.
"These robots now change everything. I want full surveillance on Goodsprings, Shady Sands, and any airspace those Prydwens pass through. Start prepping a diplomatic outreach to have Six hand over his technology. But also… contingency plans if things go sour."
General Oliver's eyes narrowed.
"You want a war with this guy?"
Kimball's voice was low.
"No. I want to know if we'd survive one."
And with that, the room burst into motion. Files moved. Orders were issued. And far above the Mojave, another Prydwyn cast a shadow across the sand, carrying the one man who might change the balance of power forever.
The room remained tense even as the command staff leapt into action. Data packets began flowing through encrypted NCR military lines. Technicians relayed satellite feeds, drone footage, and intercepted comms from both Mojave and Shady Sands sectors.
General Oliver remained rooted in place, jaw set like a slab of concrete.
"Sir… if what we saw was only a test, then what the hell is he holding back?"
Kimball adjusted his tie, moving slowly toward the screen now frozen on an image of Barbatos standing atop a broken Deathclaw nest, steam still venting from its joints.
"That's what keeps me up at night, General."
"If his kids are piloting those… then what's Six capable of?"
Oliver turned away from the screen and looked out the reinforced window of the situation room.
"You think he's playing some long game?"
Kimball's silence said it all. He was hoping Six was, and that the endgame was a peaceful future—but preparing for anything less than apocalypse.
Meanwhile…
-Aboard the Prydwen, Above Shady Sands-
The gentle hum of the aircraft fortress thrummed beneath Six's feet as he stood on the deck, arms wrapped in weighted bands, bruises blooming across his forearms from Roger's brutal training.
"Again."
Roger's voice was like thunder, and Six gritted his teeth.
His hands moved. The sword flowed. His breath aligned with his movement.
The pain? Constant.
The pressure? Overwhelming.
But his will? Unyielding.
Pebbles shot toward him again—coated in Armament Haki.
Six didn't see them—he felt them.
Smack.
One grazed his side. Another he deflected by instinct.
"Better."
Roger said, finally sounding almost satisfied.
"But you'll never awaken Conqueror's Haki until you stop holding back."
Six's eyes narrowed behind the blindfold.
"I'm not holding back."
Roger chuckled, low and dangerous.
"You are. You don't believe in your own authority. That's why it hasn't awakened. You don't command others… you earn their loyalty. That's noble. But a King? A King commands the world to bend to him. And it listens."
Six said nothing, sweat dripping down his chin as he maintained the stance.
Roger stepped forward, removing his own blade.
"Until you believe… I'll beat it into your body."
-Back in the Capital-
Kimball stood over a new incoming report. The AI parsing the data flagged something unusual.
"Sir… we just intercepted another comm from the Brotherhood Outcasts. Casdin's team tried to infiltrate a relay site near the Mojave... they didn't make it. The base was being guarded by autonomous B1 Battle Droids and those engineering turrets. They never even made it to the front door."
Kimball rubbed his temples.
"Of course. Why wouldn't he have a private army of pre-War droids?"
The future wasn't approaching. It had arrived.
And its name… was Six.